


Machine guns ready to go

by Builder



Series: Jonestown [10]
Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Birthday, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: Nat flops down onto the edge of the bathtub.  “Are you actually gonna throw up, or am I just gonna sit her till morning listening to you complain?”
Relationships: Jessica Jones/Natasha Romanov
Series: Jonestown [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/838953
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Machine guns ready to go

**Author's Note:**

> find me on Tumblr @builder051

“You’re going to drop me, Nat!”

“Then quit standing there preening and actually come.” Nat tugs on Jess’s waist and hoists her arm over her own shoulders. 

“But...” Jess has been engrossed with her distorted reflection in the back of the glass door for the past five-odd minutes. She still is, by the looks of it. 

“Tell me what is so bloody interesting about your own drunken face?” But Nat giggles, because she has a drunken face, too. She’s just a little better at holding her birthday cake flavored vodka than Jess.

“It has lines in it...” Jess murmurs, reaching out in an attempt to touch the textured panel. “Makes it tall.”

“You’re already tall,” Nat complains. “And getting greener by the second.”

Jess hiccups, as if she’s just remembered the incident with the throw rug that now smells vaguely like alcoholic Candyland. “Mm.” She nods and leans into Nat’s hold, letting herself be dragged toward the apartment’s tiny bathroom.

“Ok, now sit,” Nat commands, pointing in front of the toilet. “Want me to stay, or go clean up?”

“Why’d you bring that shit in the first place?” Jess whines, ignoring the original question. “You could’ve brought the regular.” Most of their mission-free weekends are spent with a bottle of Jack, a bottle of Smirnoff, and a stack of old movies. Though the films are usually discarded in favor of the bed once the spirits have been satisfactorily cracked.

“Because your birthday isn’t regular,” Nat says, a hint of a defensive snap in her tone. “I wanted to bring you something special.”

“So you hit up the liquor store for something that tastes like ass and sprinkles?” Jess’s voice grows thick, and a line of saliva runs down her lip into the toilet bowl.

“Hey, you acted like you liked it earlier.” Nat crosses her arms and goes to rest her elbow on the edge of the sink, but a tipsy wobble of her own ruins the effect. 

Jess doesn’t seem to notice, though. “I think the opulent word there is ‘acted,’” she snuffles, wiping her nose and mouth on the back of her hand.

“So you’ve spent the whole night putting on airs. Great.”

“Yeah, the whole thing’s been a blast.”

Nat flops down onto the edge of the bathtub. “Are you actually gonna throw up, or am I just gonna sit her till morning listening to you complain?”

“Yeah, give me a sec...”

Jess’s long fingers make quick work of her gag reflex, and within seconds, a deluge of vodka makes contact with the toilet water. She stays hunched over and retching long after she has both hands firmly affixed to the edges of the porcelain bowl.

“Hey, remember to breathe.” Nat gives Jess a gentle thump on the back, which winds up being the shock that makes her inhale flecks of alcoholic bile.

“Fuck... you...” Jess coughs, giving Nat the finger as she covers her mouth with her fist.

“And a happy new year.” Nat bites her lip sullenly for a moment, then reaches out to give Jess a more tender touch between the shoulder blades. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

Jess doesn’t shrug her off, though she looks like she wants to. She sighs, then hits Nat with a laser-like glare. “You really did it this time, you know? Really kinda fucked up my night.”

“Your night?” Nat’s taken aback for a second. “What about my night?”

“It’s not your birthday, moron.”

Nat reminds herself that they’re both drunk, and this conversation might not matter in the morning. But she still doesn’t want it to turn into a fight. “Still my night to celebrate,” she answers cooly. “To celebrate my girlfriend.”

Jess shakes her head. The movement makes her cheeks go pale, and a rogue gag makes her dive for the toilet again. 

Nat pets her hair, and Jess mumbles something about “fucking birthday cake...”

They sit there for a few minutes, both going soft in their poses. Nat leans down over her knees while Jess slumps sideways into them.

“Sorry,” Nat whispers, tucking a strand of Jess’s hair behind her ear. “D’you want to--” She’s about to ask if she wants to go to bed together, in the most literal, un-suggestive, I’m-drunk-and-you’re-sick kind of way, but her cell phone rings in her back pocket and interrupts the thought.

And it’s the special ringtone. The one she has set for Fury.

“Shit,” Nat hisses.

But she barely gets the word out before something else starts ringing. The old landline on Jess’s desk.

Jess sits up and cocks her head. “Higher ups either know you’re here, or they want me, too.”

“That means only one thing...”

“Mission,” Jess finishes.

Nat offers a pained smile. “Coffee.”


End file.
